


Bella Bellissima

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:31:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, he had loved her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bella Bellissima

Title: Bella Bellissima  
Rating: R  
Prompts: Dementors, Expecto Patronum and/or Azkaban  
Pairing(s): Bella/Sirius  
Word count: ~800  
Warnings/Content (highlight to view): *underage ~15/23*  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
Summary: Once upon a time, he had loved her.  


 

Sometimes Sirius didn't know if he was dreaming.

Bellatrix. It was always Bella at these times. Bella, switching between the girl she had been growing up (older, clever, beautiful, desirable; the only one in the family who preferred Sirius to Regulus) and as she became – the half-mad devotee of Voldemort who killed and tortured for pleasure. Now totally insane, because that was what Azkaban did to you.

That was what Azkaban did to you.

He was six. Six years old and cousin Bellatrix was coming to stay for the Christmas holidays, as she always did. She always knew the best games, told the best stories. She always pushed the boundaries that little bit further, just as Sirius liked to do; and he hero-worshipped her. His heart nearly exploded in joy when she turned to him, her voice lowered confidentially.

“We're the rebels in the family, Sirius, you and I,” she said, and smiled that warm smile which she never gave Regulus, never showed to his mother and father. A smile just for him.

Sirius wanted to be just like Bella when he grew up.

*

The image flickered and faded in favour of the woman.

“You could have been so great,” she hissed at him. “You could have been the jewel in the Dark Lord's crown – and look at you! Consorting with mudbloods and half-breeds, wasting your life. I could kill you for this, Sirius. One day I'll kill you.”

“Don't bank on it,” Sirius said – or did he say, “Then do it. Kill me”? Azkaban played tricks: which was the memory, which the fake? Which?

*

Now they were taken back to his childhood. Sirius now that little bit older: on the verge of his teens. Knowing that some of the things Bellatrix said were wrong, even evil – but not wanting to know, because she was Bella; his cousin Bella, who loved him best. Who taught him, that snowy winter, a little about love, about girls. His heart beating fast as she found him alone in the cold garden.

“I'm supposed to be dragging you inside,” she said, running a finger the length of Sirius's cheekbone. “Dragging you at wand point, judging by the look on Aunt Walburga's face.” She smiled at him teasingly, and all Sirius could think about was her, standing so close to him. Touching him. “Would you like to be dragged by me, Siri?” (No one else could call him Siri and survive. No one but Bella.)

She tipped his face up and feathered a kiss against his lips. And Sirius could feel his cock hardening in that embarrassing way it had started doing lately, and hoped she didn't know – didn't mind – would kiss him again...

*

Lily and James were dead. Peter had betrayed them – betrayed them all. Sirius swung between incandescent fury and the cold numbness of disbelief. Bellatrix again, the moment before he caught sight of Peter. Bellatrix taunting him.

“You're going to Azkaban, Sirius Black. To Azkaban.”

Sirius's bewilderment, which turned so quickly to comprehension. Sirius laughing and laughing as Peter screamed out at him and then transformed, Bella's words making hideous, ridiculous sense. “You're going to Azkaban.”

*

Fifteen years old and hating – hating – Bella and what she'd become. Witch-bitch from hell, James had christened her, and that was exactly what she was. Another Christmas holiday of nightmares with too many Blacks surrounding Sirius. The flaming anger he felt whenever he saw Bellatrix. He told himself it was all anger, nothing else.

Until he found himself sprawled half-naked across her bed, mouth opened on hers, his hands on her breasts, his cock deep inside her. He didn't care what she'd done, who she was, right then. He didn't care.

*

Her voice, still immediately familiar even after the months (was it months? days? years?) he'd spent in Azkaban.

“Our Lord will rise again, and he will tear down this world to rescue his loyal supporters. You will live to regret this day” - her voice rising to a screech as she was incarcerated not so very far from Sirius's own cell. Even here, even in Azkaban he could not escape her.

*

And now, even when he was free (in a sense) she still haunted him. His escape presaged hers. His dreams brought him her – mad, sane, sensual, terrible. He still got hard for Bella.

Sometimes Sirius did not know if he was dreaming. Sometimes he did not care.

* * *

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